


Fake it

by corviidd, Drasticdesire



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Demon AU, Demon rk900, Detroit become demon, Detroit become supernatural, Gavin Reed - Freeform, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Making Out, Nightmares, RK900 - Freeform, kindve, tags will be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corviidd/pseuds/corviidd, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drasticdesire/pseuds/Drasticdesire
Summary: A pair of eyes glow in the darkest corner of Gavin’s room, waning and waxing with slow, rhythmic pulses. He cant move, but he isn't sure he would want to even if he could.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I cant promise im going to continue this so dont get attached

A pair of eyes glow in the darkest corner of Gavin’s room, waning and waxing with slow, rhythmic pulses. He cant move, but he isn't sure he would want to even if he could. The slit pupils could almost convince him it was one of his cats, but he was pretty confident none of them had eyes that were A) Blue and B) Glowed. It wasn't an illusion; they were bright enough to faintly illuminate that corner of his room and once his eyes began to adjust he could faintly make out the outline of a crouched man. He could feel himself break out into a cold sweat, his blankets stifling, but he couldn't make his arm move to grab for the gun under his pillow. His fingers twitch with the growing urge to defend himself.

The thing in the corner tilts its head at the aborted motion, making gavins chest seize up in fear while panic slowly clawed at the bottom of his ribcage upward, his breaths becoming coming shorter. His throat squeezes itself closed when the thing leans forward, closer, blinking slowly and extending a hand. He cant move, _cant move cant move._ His arms and legs feel unbelievably heavy, impossible to lift while his desperation grows. Gavins breathing gets heavier and more strained until his wheezing echoes into the otherwise silent room. It continues to advance across his carpet, getting close enough his digital alarm clock that the green light from the numbers expose more of its features. Its sclera is black, he realizes, the blue rings of its iris fixed firmly on his face. 

 

Gavin feels like he's suffocating under the weight of his blanket, struggling with each inhale to get enough oxygen, the air hot and stifled. The nightmarish creature elegantly slinks onto his bed with an inhuman grace, noisily pushing his clock off the nightstand to plunge its face back into darkness, the glowing eyes the only source of light. This close, he can make out oil slick horns curving up and back from its forehead. The base of them glow as if through cracks in its surface, pulsing in time with its eyes. 

He shudders violently as it hunches over top of him, sharp nails- claws?- ghosting over his stubble and down his neck, tracing over the bumps of his trachea as he heaved for air. His breathing nearly stops entirely as it leans in close enough to press nose to nose, maw opening to expose sharp teeth. The feeling of a hot, wet tongue sliding up his cheek as even hotter breath fans over his face is enough to snap him out of his paralysis, flooded with adrenaline as his fingers close around the familiar handle of his gun. In an instant the muzzle is pressed to the things forehead, hammer knocked back. Surprise flashes across its face for an instant before gavin squeezes the trigger. 

He hears the deafening bang, jerking awake to the sound of his alarm clock beeping loudly from the floor. Gavin bolts up in an instant, hyperventilating as he whips his head around to survey the room in a blazing panic, early morning light streaming through the slats of his blinds. While his alarm clock continued to blare at him from the floor, the rest of his room remained the same as it was when he’d passed out. No demonic creature crouched in the corner. He was absolutely convinced he had shot that thing through its creepy fucking skull, blasted its brains all over his bedroom walls but there was nothing. Checking with shaking hands, he confirms his gun hadn’t even moved from where he kept it tucked underneath his pillow, no bullets missing.

He roughly shoved the blankets off his body, stumbled out of his bed and shuffled down the hall to his bathroom, leaning heavily on the wall when he stumbles over his own two feet. He's still groggy as he meets his own tired eyes in the mirror, rubbing his eyes firmly. He runs his hand up his scratchy, stubble covered neck, hissing as the thin red line down his throat stings from the pressure. A heavy ball of dread settled in his stomach and lodged itself there. trying to suppress his fear but failing miserably. 

The evidence didn't add up. If that thing had genuinely been in his room, he'd be scrubbing the walls of his room right now. Hed have a bullet missing and probably have his coworkers in and out of his apartment as they worked the crime scene but other than the thin line down his throat and his knocked over alarm nothing was out of place. He leans in to the mirror to get a closer look and shivers. Itd barely broke skin but there was still a thin scab over the raised welt. He decided to skip shaving today, instead pulling his shirt up over his head and ditching his boxers. He turns the shower all the way to cold in a futile attempt to shake off the fear and panic that still clung to him. 

Predictably, it doesn't work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe if I had a twink to suck my dick every morning I’d be more _perky._ " Gavin spits at him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have told myself not to get attached because damn

Freshly showered and caffeinated, Gavin felt only slightly more capable to take on the day than he had twenty minutes prior after waking up from his nightmare. He fruitlessly tried to rub the sleep from his eyes as he slid from the front seat of his car and slammed the door shut a little harder than he needed to and squinted against the steadily rising sun. He silently cursed out the precinct for having the audacity to continue to exist on such a shitty morning. 

Stepping into the bullpen only made him feel worse, grip tightening on his second coffee of the day hard enough to make the paper cup fold slightly in his hand, the lid popping out of place. The ambient background noise of the workspace that usually helped him tune in and focus just felt irritating, rubbing him in the wrong way and feeding a rapidly growing headache at his temples. He felt the irrational need to yell for everyone in the damn room to shut up the fuck up so he could get some peace and quiet.

He's almost to his desk when he gets interrupted by Anderson and his little fucking pet detective. It was so obvious they were fucking that if he couldn't see it, he may as well hand in his badge and gun to Fowler now cause clearly he was useless as a detective. He shoots them both a glare, expression curled up into a scowl to try and ward them off. 

“Reed, you look shittier than usual.” Hank chimes anyway, amused as he sips from the mug of coffee Connor probably fetched for him. Speaking of, the usually chipper kid was looking at him with genuine concern. Actually, upon closer inspection, he was looking just past Gavin as if there was something behind him; when Connor notices him staring he jerks his gaze back on to Gavin's face, idly adjusting his tie. He grits his teeth and resists the urge to turn and look over his shoulder. 

“Maybe if I had a twink to suck my dick every morning I’d be more _perky._ " Gavin spits at him, huffily turning away to march the rest of the way to his desk. Hank opens his mouth to tell him what he thought of that implication, but a gentle hand on his arm stops him. 

“Perhaps it’s best if we leave Detective Reed alone for today.” Connor suggests delicately, frowning. Hank grunts in agreement. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

 

 

Hours later and every square inch of his desk is covered in paperwork, even his console pushed back to accommodate the overflow of files he had to deal with. His pen was leaking all over his hand and his wrist was cramping from writing for the better part of the day, forced to trekk back and forth from his desk and the evidence room as he confirmed intake paperwork from his last case. It'd been a big one, which meant a lot of evidence, both big and small pieces. Even worse when intake was _wrong_ , and he had to deal with fixing it. The only consolation was that his bad mood radiated outwards, and even the rookies were smart enough to stay out from underfoot for once in their miserable lives.

His hand was aching by the time he’d arranged the paper back into neat piles, everything signed and authorized and fixed if it needed to be. He heaves a sigh and leans back in his chair to shake out his hand, wincing. Hed known what his job as a detective would entail, but he still wished it was more action than paperwork. He flexes his fingers and writes his signature for the last time that day, setting his pen down with relief. He stretches in his chair, leaning to crack his back and roll his shoulders with a satisfied grunt. It was boring desk jockey work, but it also gave him a good sense of accomplishment for having dealt with the ridiculously sized pile in a day, with little to no interruption from coworkers he barely tolerated on good days. The constant, monotonous work kept his mind off his nightmare, too.

He's in the breakroom, pouring himself a very well deserved cup of coffee when fowler barks at him from his office. He leans his head back and groans, dreading to know what the captain wanted. He had half an hour til he could go the fuck home, couldnt it wait until tomorrow? 

It turned out that no, it couldn't, because “it" was a robbery in progress at an apartment on fourth street and 30th ave. He quickly discovered the apartment buildings elevator was broken, of fucking course. It made preventing the thieves escape less complicated, but his legs were complaining by the time he got to the apartment, banging loudly on the door. 

“Detroit police, open up!” he shouted after the rookie cop that had accompanied him hesitated to do so. There's a crash from inside and panicked swearing, so gavin doesn't waste time, kicking the door open the rest of the way with his service weapon drawn. He's greeted with two teenagers frozen in place, shitty robber get ups and all. He heaves a sigh, and signals the rookie to cuff them. 

The arrest was easier than anticipated but both perps were minors, which meant getting parents involved. Which meant dealing with parents who didn't believe their perfect little angel would rob some poor old woman and nearly give her a heart attack. He's more pissed and exhausted than he had been that morning by the time he slams shut the door to his apartment, not even bothering to take off his holster before he collapsed onto the couch.

 

 

Gavin opened his eyes to the soft buzzing of static noise from his TV, groaning quietly at being woken up so late. He sat himself up with the intention of moving to his bed assuming his body had enough of the lumpy couch and woke him up, but regretted it as he came face to face with glowing blue eyes. Was he dreaming again? His hand fumbled to his holster but his service weapon was missing, leaving him to grasp at nothing. He can see its face better this time, backlight by his tv, but he couldn't bring himself to look down and observe the rest of the thing. It slowly raised from its crouch to stand over him, gavin unconsciously tilting his head up to keep his eyes locked on theirs. 

He felt like there was a bubble of air in his chest, expanding and squeezing, pushing on his lungs, his internal organs and bringing his breath shorter, just like last time. Vaguely, he wondered if the pressure would press against his heart harder and harder until it couldn't beat any longer. He nearly choked on his own tongue in fear when the clawed hand rests on his chest this time, but rather than plunge into his ribcage and rip his heart free like his imagination helpfully supplied, the palm rested flat and unmoving. It was warm, too warm, but despite the unnatural feeling and the pinpricks of sharp claws through his shirt the balloon of pressure in his chest lessened. He still wasn't breathing normal, but at the very least he wasn't heaving desperately for air like the night before. The hand slid up until it cupped one side of his face, a thumb brushing up in circles against his stubble. It tilts his head and leans closer, a second hand joining the first on the other side to hold his head steady. 

He doesn't resist as it moves his head this way and that, expression smugly curious as it inspected Gavin. It tilts his head back to take a closer look at the line he had left down his throat, and for the first time Gavin heard it make a noise. A pleased grumble from deep in its chest that send chills down his spine. When it brought his head forward it was grinning, showing off sharp white teeth. The canines would fit better in a dogs mouth than the one they were in, made for tearing flesh from bone. The word canine echoed in his head. 

Slowly the creatures disgusting grin turned into a scowl, unhappy with the terror that marked gavin's face, paired with strained huffs. His heart beat loudly in his ears as it leaned closer and for a moment, he wondered if it could hear his pulse… the thought was forgotten when the things hot tongue dragged over his bottom lip. He hardly had any time to be disgusted and scared that it was tasting him to- to eat him or something before it did it again, this time carefully sucking on his bottom lip, scraping the delicate flesh with its teeth. Gavin could have sworn the thing hesitated for just a moment before it kissed him. It had little finesse, as if it had seen people kiss before but had never done it itself. The lips on his own were just as warm as the rest of the creature and unnaturally smooth, pressing more firmly to try and egg gavin into participating. So, he does. After closing his eyes he tilts his chin up and moves his mouth with its, groaning quietly in the back of his throat as its tongue presses into his mouth. Heat pools in the pit of his stomach to his surprise, enjoying it despite how messy the demon was. at some point kneeling on either side of gavins hips so it didn't have to bend over so far. 

He felt too calm for the scene that was laid out in front of him, the creatures mouth going after his with more vigor the longer it went on, more enthusiasm and less care. Sharp teeth scraped and nipped at his lips as if it wanted to bite down but was barely holding back from doing so. Making himself move was easier this time, hand shoving against its chest to separate them long enough for gavin to breathe. He had a feeling that the thing only moved back because it wanted to, not because gavin pushed. Either way he took advantage, breathing hard for an entirely different reason than before. He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat and gathered himself, opening his eyes.

It was as if the thing had been set alight. Its eyes glowed ten times as bright as before, as well as its horns, but all the way up to the tips this time. Tattoos he hadn't seen before down its neck glowed too, but softer than the rest of it. Gavin was dumbfounded as to how the light hadn’t bled through his eyelids when they were closed. He stumbles over syllables for a moment. 

“... what are you.” 

It grins at his whisper, leaning in closer despite his attempts to push it away. Its hot breath ghosts over his ear as it opens its mouth to answer. Before it has time to speak his eyes snap open and he sits up in an instant, panting hard and drenched in sweat as he finds himself alone on his couch, living room illuminated with early morning light. Shit. He shifts to stand, only to groan down at the semi he was sporting. 

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it??? Canine?? Like r"k9"00?? 
> 
> But hey, whats connor looking at


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe…. maybe he was hallucinating, but the warm breath from the whispers into his ear felt too real for him to really consider the option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Offical welcome to my lovely coauthor! Theyve actually been helping me write this the entire time, but just made an ao3 account.

Over the next week, gavins condition worsened by the day. He came to work more and more exhausted, acting paranoid and on edge. He drank as much coffee as he could manage, leaving him with jitters so bad his hands shook all the time. On top of it all, he had marks. Bruises up his arms and legs, scabbed over bites just under his collar. He could hardly tell if they were real, the days and nights beginning to bleed together as he swore he could see the demon when he was awake now. 

Maybe…. maybe he was hallucinating, but the warm breath from the whispers into his ear felt too real for him to really consider the option. It whispered terrible, nasty things the demon wanted to do to him, describing in vivid detail the ways he could tear gavin apart with his teeth or his cock. Fangs nipped at his earlobe in the middle of the day, making him flinch and jam his hands down onto the keyboard. Even hank was beginning to become concerned, and he old bastard could hardly tell which way was up most mornings. 

Mostly though, Connor was worried. He found the usually cheery, rainbow shining out of his ass kid watching him from his desk more and more often, expression twisted up into a look of concern. Even worse was as the week progressed, he could have sworn on his life he saw connor looking directly at the demon when it had decided to sit on the edge of his desk and purr at him, flashing a cocky grin. If it was really there, why hasn't anyone else said anything? Why hadn't _Connor_ said anything. The endless questions crowded his head, making it difficult to get any work done at all in his sleep deprived condition. 

One part of seeing it during the day he hadn't become accustomed to, besides the obvious, was seeing the demon in its entirety. It dressed surprisingly plain in a tight fitting black turtleneck, permanently ironed slacks, and a pair of pointed dress shoes that were always shined to perfection. Its nails were manicured, hair gelled back with one strand of hair left awry on purpose. Without the horns, looking from behind one might even assume it was human, if you didn't look too long. If your gaze lingered, you might just notice too pale skin that moved with an impossible fluidity. From the front though, the supernaturality become much more obvious. Shockingly bright blue eyes framed by the black of its sclera matched the jewelry that filled the many piercings adorning his face. Several studs were pierced up its horns as well, straight through what he could only assume was bone. When it smiled or bared its teeth in anger, Gavin caught glimpses of the teeth that he had become familiar with sinking into his flesh. The demon seemed obsessed with biting him, leaving Gavin to begin to call him Canine subconsciously. It seemed to like to make him bleed. 

In the dreams (or reality?) where he fought back, he learned Canine didn't bleed red. It bled a disgusting black tar like sludge that he swore clung to his hands and clothes long after waking up, sticky under his fingernails. He’d also discovered that the human like appearance was likely an illusion, or at least partly. When he fought back, scrambled for his gun or a knife or a blunt object to hit with, Canine became…. Excitable. The human skin would bleed away, often starting at his fingers, to expose longer claws, and a hard, scale like skin instead; the texture reminded him of his snake. It never extended past its elbows, no matter how worked up they got. Its eyes glowed brighter, almost like tiny flames trapped in its eyes, teeth got longer, sharper, and its perfectly manicured nails turned into inch long black claws.

Gavin could see it right now, even, from the corner of the alleyway, slowly creeping closer. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and relished in the nicotine that briefly sated his addiction, hoping the kick from the cigarette would wake him up enough for the hallucination to disappear. Instead, Canine slid up beside him, hooking an arm around his shoulders to coo a greeting into his ear. He grits his teeth and ignores it, even when the paper stick is plucked from his fingers. The demon takes a drag, blowing the smoke over his face. It does what he's pretty sure is supposed to be a laugh, a low huffing noise, when he snatches the cigarette back from him and in turn finally acknowledges its presence. Hed shoot the damn thing in the head, but he didn't need fowler chewing him out for discharging his weapon without a cause _again_.

So he grit his teeth and shoved him away, ignoring the smug look it had plastered on its face. He straightened out his clothes with a huff and tried to turn away with the intention of heading back in, but firm arms slipped around his waist to keep him from storming back inside. It was gentle, for now, nosing at the collar of his jacket, warm pressed against his back. Fighting it off would just mean he was sure to be harrassed by it for the rest of the day, so for now he just stands still and finishes off his cigarette. When he crushes the butt under the heel of his foot he sighs, trying to mentally prepare himself for the struggle this was going to be. 

“I gotta go back to work, Canine.” He starts, attempting to carefully pry off the hands around his waist. They tighten instead, and Gavin gives up on wrenching them off; It had proved, more than once, it had a serious strength advantage. He was too tired to put up any kind of genuine struggle, so he just slumps back against its chest. Maybe he could fall asleep like this. finally get some well deserved shut eye so he would stop seeing it everywhere he looked. His eyes close, and he can feel himself starting to drift, exhausted. 

He violently flinches awake when the back door opens with a bang, and Gavin has to rush to compose himself, knowing anderson would give him shit about his health or whatever if he caught him dozing off outside. He has to do a double take when connor was the one who turned the corner, rather than… well, anyone else. Canine tightens its grip further and hisses, presumably glaring daggers at his coworker. Connor was far from his favourite person at the precinct, but it really seemed to despise him. He tenses but does his best not to do anything too weird, constantly reminding himself that connor couldn't SEE it, and it'd be really fucking crazy looking if he tried to squirm out of its grip now. 

He doesn't bother greeting him with anything but a tired head nod and a vague look of confusion. 

“Good afternoon, Gavin. Hank requested i come and check on you and assure your well being, despite knowing full well you are a grown man who can take care of his own issues.” He snips, clearly annoyed with his partner for sending him on such a useless mission when he could be doing case work. He tries to pay attention to whatever he's saying, he really does, but it drags its tongue up his cheek and his mind blanks as he focuses on not making a disgusted face. It's only after a few seconds of silence that he noticed Connor has stopped going on about god knows what, and was now staring at him with a look of frustration and disgust. Had he made a face? He thought he had done a pretty good job at holding his poker face.… no, wait. 

Connor wasn't looking at him, he was looking just left of his head. Something clicks, his brain made for investigating even when he was drop dead tired and ass deep in denial.

“... you can see it, can't you.” He whispers, watching Connors gaze jump over to his face instead. He stumbles over his words, flush rising to his face. He can feel Canine grin against his skin, its mouth pressed to the nape of his neck. 

“No, of course not. I-I mean, I have no idea what youre talking about. I’m going back inside to report to hank.” He turns on his heel and speed walks away. For an interrogator, Connor had always been really, really bad at lying. This time when he pushed at Canines hands it let him go, doing that weird huffing laugh. It sent chills down his spine as he raced after Connor, holding onto the idea that maybe his sanity wasn't slipping. He shoved open the door and pushed past people, nearly skidding across the floor in his haste. 

By the time he's back in the bullpen Connor is in fowlers office, hands clasped behind his back with a worried look on his face. He doesn't bother to wait for the captain to call him in, it didn't take a detective to know what Connor was doing. He stormed up the stairs and through the door, ready to give them both an earful. Fowler cuts him off, holding up a hand. 

“I don't want to hear it, Reed. Im putting you on a week long medical leave.” fowler starts, and Gavin is quick to interrupt. 

“No, no fucking way! I am perfectly fine, whatever he told you was bullshit!” Jeffrey slams his fist down on the desk to silence him, pointing a finger at him and then Connor. 

“What he said has got nothing to do with it. You're practically falling asleep at your desk! I don't pay you to sleep. Go home and get some rest. Connor will drive you home. End of discussion.” He wants desperately to scream at him to go fuck himself, but he's worried he might just pass out if he tried. He grits his teeth, and flips him the bird. 

He storms from the office, rounding on Connor in the break room. He grabs him by the shirt collar to slam him into the nearest wall. Its a weak move, his grip shaking from his caffeine intake. Connor lets him anyway, going without a struggle. He holds up his hands in a peaceful gesture, trying to calm Gavin. 

“You better tell me what the _fuck_ is going on before I shoot you between your fucking eyes.” He hissed through clenched teeth, bloodshot eyes narrowed. Connor shifts in his grip and sighs quietly. He'd been literally and figuratively backed into a corner; he knew Gavin wasn't just going to let this go. 

“I’ll tell you everything. Just not here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! But only kind of.
> 
> Huge thanks to pence for being a sweetheart!! If you havent checked out their fic daydreamer you really really should.


End file.
